I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Sometimes the answer Lies in knowing that words have Multiple meanings
By D. J. Reddall2 months ago in Poets
Some stubborn, metaphysical substrate Must linger when everything else dissolves; Beneath the paint, the canvas stands up straight
Sometimes, the standard approach just won't do Renown eludes the follower of rules Vanilla physics should not constrain you
Heat excites the pan Olive oil forms a bright slick Floral ghosts kiss nose
Nostalgia for the sweet, spousal swivel Moments when surprise synchronizes eyes Will yield, as the early blossoms shrivel
Never mind the center holding Who can discern a center in this malevolent maelstrom of madness? Avarice is our guiding angel
Bounty hunters are seldom in search of paper towels Satire should never be impossible Everything mundane has been painted with suspicion and terror
We must not allow Simple, polite gratitude To become extinct
Seeking a docile Obedient glutton for Boring punishment
We hate what we do Not understand well enough To simply enjoy
Things have been getting stranger recently Gunshots, sobbing, loud talk of ballrooms Bruised hands gesturing so suspiciously
A copy without an original I am compiled from crisp facsimiles A lovely simulacrum, virginal To vaults of data, I hold shining keys
